For Sanaa’s prompt on Real Toads – Get listed. I have chosen these words for my poem: January. snow, wind, clouds, poems. the optional words of my choice are mysterious, Atlantic, and lover.

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The Atlantic in January
“There’s something wonderful about drinking in the afternoon. A not-too-cold pint, absolutely alone at the bar — even in this fake-ass Irish pub.” Anthony Bourdain

The winds blew the clouds about in the
January sky – like poems written on tissue paper.
Bits of sea foam snagged on the sand
and then were swept back into the ocean.
Snow fell slow and steady.
The grey Atlantic heaved to the shore and back again –
breathing like a sleeping lover –
chest up and chest down,
chest up and chest down.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.
Fifty shades of grey –
In the sky,
The sand,
The water,
The partial whelk shell holding firm in the sand
as the water washed over it.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.
It is the kiss of lovers,
The words written by a poet in her mind,
A glass of beer drunk in an empty bar
on a Tuesday afternoon.
I walk along its edge and wonder
at its quiet beauty –
the things hidden in its depths.
The Atlantic in January is a mysterious thing.

This is absolutely stunning, Toni ❤️I love how you describe the Atlantic as “the kiss of lovers/the words written by a poet in her mind,” and the fact that you chose to rise to the challenge by using optional words! 😀 Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. You made my day! ❤️

breath in and out … slow pulse, rhythms eternal, the mystery of the sleeping face, in the grey in-between light – so much like the ocean in her ways – the different faces she wears, but eternal for the mysteries … and some depths should remain just as they are … simply for the mystical and divine –

interesting ideas and metaphors, has a particular easy but slightly melancholic feel, like a rolling wave or sigh … pleasant and soothing and the repetition really anchors us in the moments as you’ve written them

The imagery in this poem could equally apply to our coastline, Toni. I love the ‘poems written on tissue paper’ and ‘Bits of sea foam snagged on the sand’ – I know them well – and the sea ‘breathing like a sleeping lover’, as well as the ‘partial whelk shell holding firm in the sand’ and the poet drinking beer in an empty bar on a Tuesday afternoon. They are fine details in a big seascape.

I love to walk the New Hampshire beaches in the winter, every day, every hour, the scene is changing. You told that well and maybe even better the thoughts of the single nursing her drink, alone at the bar. She seems well versed in several areas, recalling the sleeping lover, contemplating his breathing is very revealing and attention getting.
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The ocean does look like home. I used to drink on a lonely afternoon inside a bar where the bartender and I were the only ones there. Even in my wild days when I drank and did way too many drugs, a couple of shots or a beer was enough for me. Drinking in the ocean air was all I needed to make me dizzy!